


Summer Nesting

by MoonTearChild



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 23:51:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19095505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonTearChild/pseuds/MoonTearChild
Summary: There are worse things to do with your time than watch an attractive man kill people.





	Summer Nesting

The sun hung in the apex of the sky, sending down sweltering rays of heat to mingle with the mid afternoon humidity. The air was thick - not only with warmth, but tension too. Scout silently thanks the roof over his head, otherwise he’d have burned up hours ago, even if he was still at the mercy of the temperature. He lets a sigh escape his lips, careful not to be too loud, for seemingly the first time in his life. Drumming the pads of his fingers against the wooden flooring, his eyes darting to and fro as if it would somehow magically alleviate his boredom, he looks to his bat with a frown. He’d cleaned it three times already, enough to see his reflection in the sheen; the act was almost uncharacteristic, since he usually had to be nagged for at least a couple days before completing the task of his own accord (usually by a very disgruntled Medic, who insisted on cleanliness if Scout insisted on bringing the weapon into the mess hall.) But, much to his disappointment, the implement hadn’t suddenly decided to become filthy again, and therefore, he was left with nothing to do. 

His gaze then wanders up, across the other edge of the nest, to the man perched there, sniper set against his rigid form as if it were an attachment of himself, and simply watches. The Aussie man could pass as a statue for how long he’d been holding that position, looking down the scope of the gun as he surveyed the scene down below, lips in a tight line as a result of his concentration. So far, there had been nothing. So Scout simply watched as the man finally seemed to breathe normally, perching the barrel of the gun on the wooden ledge, hand reaching over to grab the mug that stood on a small crate next to him, eyes never leaving the battlefield. Finding the cup was empty, Sniper tuts, and his hand flicks on the knob of a small and portable gas stove where a tea kettle was stationed with practiced mastery, still looking forward.

Scout longs to be back down there, in - what quite literally was - the heat of the moment, swinging at skulls and shooting the BLU’s as he dashed past, cool breeze on his face as they swore after him, but not being quick enough to catch up. He sighs again, corner of his mouth tugging up in frustration as he watched the Sniper’s movements as he made a batch of fresh coffee and took a sip. He simply couldn’t understand how the man could drink such a hot drink in such miserably hot weather, but then figured he was probably used to it with where he grew up. Scout’s hands twitched, his leg grew restless, and he shifted a few times to get comfortable again, hearing the other RED suck his teeth in annoyance. He starts to think about just shooting himself to get back down into the action, but decides against it - one, because it would most definitely give away their position, and two, well. Admittedly he wasn’t sure the respawn helped with non injury related ailments. It was the height of summer and Scout had been just dandy running about, taking out the enemy team and holding the capture point, when quite unexpectedly, he’d fell flat on his face. When he came to, it was with the Medic hovering over him, humming as he did when he thought. He felt sick, and the world swam in and out of view. He was pulled to his feet, and stumbled, something unlike him.  
“Just as I thought. You have heatstroke. No use fighting like zhis, Scout. Do yourself a favor and go back to base, ja?”   
He wanted to argue, but really didn’t feel up to the task of running about anymore, and not wanting to go back to the empty base by himself, he went to the next best place. But now he’s really wishing he had gone back, almost drooling at the thought of the cool air con and all the water he could drink. He lifts the brim of his baseball cap and wipes at the sweat on his brow, grimacing at the uncomfortable rubbing of his damp handwraps against his skin. 

The Sniper’s movement caught his eye, and he turned his attention onto the Aussie, who was readied, shoulders squared and alert as he stared into the scope, tracking some movement as he sucked air in through his teeth. He held his breath for what seemed like an eternity, and his finger pulled back the trigger, the loud ring of a bullet hitting it’s mark putting a smirk of triumph on the Sniper’s face. Scout laughed.  
“Yanno, that would totally be psychotic if it wasn’t so damn attractive.” He teases, earning a cocky wink from the man as he readied back into position.


End file.
